It felt like I’d broken our relationship beyond repair. Could my mother forgive me for this? Could I even forgive myself? Maybe forgiveness was the wrong word. I didn’t just want her to forgive me, I wanted things to change. I wanted my mom to accept me for exactly how I was. Until now, every single action and word and outfit and meal had been noted, inspected, and judged. If our relationship was broken, I wanted to rebuild it, but differently, better.
